


it's half timing (the other half's luck)

by madameofmusic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Wedding Planner Kent, non-hockey playing Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 23:56:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15157985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/pseuds/madameofmusic
Summary: Kent's fiance dumps him at the altar, leaving Kent more than a little jaded. When Jeff walks into his life, he's less than prepared, and more than against the idea that Jeff could want more than a one-night stand.Jeff, however, has a different plan.





	it's half timing (the other half's luck)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staunchly_anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchly_anonymous/gifts).



> Big, big shout out to all my betas, whomst I love with my whole heart. 
> 
> Title is from "Just Haven't Met You Yet" by Michael Buble!

This wedding is one of the most extravagant Kent’s ever planned. He would be bitter about it if he wasn’t being paid so well to sit in a corner and make sure everything runs smoothly, which, naturally, it does. The grooms’ budget afforded them only the best, and so all of the fires Kent’s used to putting out on ceremony day just… aren’t there. The caterers are early, the cake arrives exactly as expected, the florists and decorators had the reception hall completely decked out before Kent had even arrived.

In short, he’s enjoying himself at a wedding for the first time in two years.

“Hey.” A man, tall and dark-haired, sidles up to Kent. Kent raises an eyebrow. “How do you know the grooms?”

A flicker of confusion passes over Kent’s face. “Uh, I’m the wedding planner.”

The man nods and then hands him a glass of champagne. “Thought so. You’ve been lurking in the corner all night and no one I’ve talked to here seems to know you.”

Kent accepts the glass but doesn’t drink from it. “I’m not _lurking_.” He huffs and sets the glass on a nearby table. “I’m doing my job, thank you.”

The man laughs, and the sound sends a jolt of warmth down Kent’s spine. It’s pleasant, and if Kent were more metaphor-inclined, he’d call it _sparkling_. “Sure, of course.”

“How do _you_ know the grooms?” Kent asks despite himself. He feels like he should be walking around right about now and checking in with the DJ and the bartender to see if everything’s going okay (even if nothing’s gone wrong this entire day, like the Lord himself blessed this ceremony to be problem-free), but there’s something about this guy that just… makes Kent want to talk to him more. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and one not as unwelcome as he would have expected.

The man pauses, licks his lips, and seems to be mulling something over before he responds. “I’m Jeff. I’m… work friends with Jack.” Kent takes his hand and shakes it, trying not to focus on the rough calluses on the man’s fingers and the dry warmth of his palm that only make Kent want to hold his hand longer.

The man drops his hand, and then leans up against the wall, angling his body towards Kent. Kent’s eyes track him, and then flick to the room, trying to find focus anywhere but Jeff, who’s just a little too close for his intentions to be only friendly. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Jeff shrugs. “Enough. I mean, it’s a wedding. They either make you weepy or wistful, right?”

Kent nods and then looks at Jeff. “Which one are you?”

“Huh?”

“Weepy or wistful?”

Jeff grins, and Kent’s heart thumps, his stomach curling. “Maybe I’m neither.”

Kent narrows his eyes. “You just said-”

Jeff leans in. “Maybe I’m feeling pretty stoked to be flirting with the cute wedding planner instead.”

Kent balks and then looks away. “So, wistful then.”

Jeff laughs, leaning back. “Sure. I mean, I can’t be weepy. Jack’s best man has that role down-pat.”

Kent looks over to said best man, who’d given a very tearful, loud (and somewhat confusing) speech earlier, and who was now very drunkenly crying on a small woman who looked amused, though slightly exasperated, with him. Kent had met with him only once in the preparations, and found him to be… kind of a lot, to be completely honest.

“He sure does.” Kent runs a hand through his hair and then turns to face Jeff. “So what do you do, then? Some sort of PR for the Aces?”

Jeff looks momentarily amused, before shrugging. “Sometimes.”

“Vague,” Kent says, arching an eyebrow. “Is your job top secret or something?”

Jeff laughs this time, raucous, and shakes his head. “Nah. It’s nothing that exciting.”

A loud cheer from the front of the room draws both their attention. The grooms had opted for throwing a styrofoam puck (which Kent had talked them down to from a real puck, which could only end in injury) instead of a bouquet, and judging by the loud cheering and laughter surrounding the best man, he’d just caught it. Kent snorts at the display but smiles in spite of himself.

“Did they throw a… puck?” Jeff asks. Kent looks over and only grows more amused at the confusion on Jeff’s face. Kent nods. “Jack,” Jeff says, shaking his head with a grin. “Guess we couldn’t expect anything less from a two-time Cup-winning champion. I’m sure Eric was beyond thrilled.”

Kent shrugs. “He wanted to throw a pie, but that was vetoed.”

“A pie?” Jeff buries his face in a hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter at the image. “God. I’ve never met two people more meant for one another.”

A curl of bitterness edges into Kent’s mind, and he brushes it away, humming in agreement instead. “I should go do some rounds to make sure everything’s running smoothly.” Kent pulls away from the wall but before he can get too far, Jeff stops him.

“Wait.” Kent turns to him and waits. Jeff seems to deliberate for a moment before speaking. “Where are you uh, headed after this?”

Kent narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe you want to come uh, check out my hotel room?”

Kent pauses, and then bursts into laughter, fisting a hand against his mouth. Jeff’s cheeks color and he begins to walk away with a muttered apology. Kent stops him.

“That was… the worst proposition I’ve ever heard.” Kent steps closer, and straightens Jeff’s tie, looking up at Jeff as he does so through the fan of his eyelashes. “I should be done by 11.”

Jeff settles a hand over Kent’s and smiles, softer, sweeter than any of his other ones. “I’ll wait.”

Kent steps back. “I really do have to go, though.”

Jeff nods and lets him. Kent walks away, trying to smother a grin and any impending sense that this is a bad decision.

His eyes find Jeff throughout the night, and usually are met with Jeff’s own. The hesitation fades away into anticipation, and by the end of the night, when the last of the catering team leaves, he’s practically buzzing with a mixture of emotions. He turns and finds the ballroom empty of anyone but hotel staff and himself.

He frowns and tries to shake off the feeling of disappointment. Maybe Jeff changed his mind? Kent had been so busy cleaning up and finalizing the last details that he might have missed him.

Kent leaves the ballroom, his bag slung over his shoulder. The lobby of the hotel is quiet, and Kent makes it almost all the way to the door before he feels a hand on his shoulder pulling him backward.

Kent spins around and finds himself pressed up against Jeff. The man grins. “You weren’t gonna leave, were you?” Behind his smile, Kent can see Jeff’s matching hesitancy.

Kent huffs. “I thought you’d already gone.”

Jeff shakes his head. “Nah. Was saying goodbye to some people, and got sidetracked out here.”

Kent looks around, avoiding looking at Jeff, suddenly unsure of both himself and the situation at hand. “Well, I’m done.”

Jeff nods. “I see.”

Their eyes meet, and Jeff seems to decide something upon seeing the look Kent has on. “Do you wanna grab a bite to eat? There’s a little diner around the corner from here that’s open 24 hours.”

Something loosens in Kent’s chest, some of the doubt about the prospect of a one-night stand prospect, an experience he’s never really gone for, disappearing. “I’d like that.”

Jeff leads him out of the hotel lobby and into the night air, still warm. Jeff shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles at Kent. “You did a good job with the wedding. Jack said Eric wouldn’t stop gushing about the decorations.”

Kent shrugs. “It’s my job.” He fiddles with the strap of his bag and looks upward. The night is clear, but the light pollution drowns out any stars but the very brightest. “I’m glad they enjoyed it though.”

Jeff bumps into him gently, getting Kent to look at him. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

Kent licks his lips nervously, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I just. Don’t really do this?”

Jeff’s smile turns teasing. “What, hang out with people?”

Kent elbows him, but can’t resist smiling back. “You know what I mean.”

Jeff stops. “Kent.”

Kent, a step ahead, turns back to face him. “Yeah?”

Jeff steps closer, pulling one of Kent’s hands to him. “We can just eat, and then you can head home if you want.”

Kent scrapes his teeth against his lip and then makes a noncommittal noise.

Jeff looks down at Kent, intense, more serious now. “Really.”

Kent sighs. “Okay. Maybe.”

Jeff searches his eyes and then nods. “Cool.”

Jeff squeezes his hand and makes to let go, but Kent holds on. “This is… this is fine.”

Jeff adjusts his hand so their fingers are tangled together and brushes his thumb over Kent’s. “Alright.”

The diner Jeff brings him to is still filled with patrons, albeit not as many as they might see in the daytime. Kent’s thankful for it in an odd sort of way. Jeff drags him to a corner table and pulls out his chair with a dramatic flourish. Kent snorts, but takes it.

Kent finds talking to Jeff is easy. Jeff keeps the conversation light, flowing, and Kent finds himself talking about just about anything and everything. The food, as Jeff promised, is delicious, and the weariness Kent feels from a long day of running around settles into him. He can feel his eyelids drooping, and knows, suddenly, viscerally, that he’d rather do anything than go back to his quiet apartment with just his cat and sleep.

“Jeff?” He interrupts Jeff mid-story, fingers gripping the edge of the plastic tablecloth.

“And then—” Jeff stops his story and frowns at Kent in concern. “Yeah? You okay?”

Kent nods. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Jeff stares at him, searching, and then nods. “Yeah.”

Kent calls for the check, and Jeff snags it from him and lays a fifty on the table without blinking. “C’mon.”

Kent takes his hand, snags his bag with the other, and they leave the diner. The anticipation, the want from earlier comes back full-force.

The mood between them is different, more… potent.

They head straight back to the hotel, and Jeff leads him to the elevator. “Do you not have a place in the city?”

Jeff presses the button for the top floor. “I’m in the middle of moving, and I only have an air mattress and a blowup couch right now.”

Kent huffs a laugh, and eyes the elevator panel. “Penthouse?”

Jeff shrugs. “I’m treating myself?”

The elevator doors ding open, and Jeff leads him to the last room at the end of the hallway. Jeff pulls out his keycard, and fingers it, running his thumb down the edge. “Are you sure?” Jeff turns to Kent.

Kent appreciated Jeff giving him an out, and it only makes him want this more. Kent’s only ever had a few hookups, and most have been rather utilitarian, over and done with fast. Jeff’s given him outs, made sure he was comfortable, and if Kent was a different person, if this was a different universe in which Kent had met him anywhere else, he might have been more than a little in love with Jeff.

As it is, Kent probably won’t see him past tomorrow morning.

He thinks _fuck it,_ and pulls Jeff down towards him, pressing their lips together. Jeff’s hand finds Kent’s hip and Kent’s arms twine around Jeff’s neck. He pulls away a few moments later and nods. “I’m sure.” He slides the card from Jeff’s hand and inserts it into the door.

The lock clicks open, and Jeff pulls Kent through, shutting the door and pressing them up against it in one smooth motion. “Anyone ever tell you you have pretty eyes?”

Kent huffs, but pulls Jeff into another kiss. He finds the edge of Jeff’s shirt, and tugs gently. “Anyone ever tell you talk too much?”

Jeff laughs, pressing his forehead to Kent’s shoulder. “All the time.” He lifts his mouth to the junction of Kent’s neck and shoulder and presses a kiss to the soft fabric of Kent’s button-down. Kent slips his hands under Jeff’s shirt and presses his hands to Jeff’s stomach.

Jeff moves, mouthing up the length of Kent’s neck until he’s sucking gently on Kent’s neck. Kent shoves at him weakly. “Are you trying to give me a hickey?”

Kent can feel Jeff’s smile against his skin. “Maybe,” Jeff says. He bites gently at the skin under Kent’s ear, making Kent hiss softly. “Maybe I’m just trying to take my time.”

“You’re terrible at one night stands,” Kent says, but his voice betrays him, laced with thorough enjoyment.

Jeff laughs again, and pulls back, gives Kent a wink. “You won’t be saying that soon.”

Kent rolls his eyes but pulls Jeff back down again. “Prove it.”

  


The early morning light filters through the blinds of the room’s window, casting long threads of soft morning sun over the bed. Kent squeezes his eyes shut against the light, and groans low in his throat. He rolls over, presses his face into Jeff’s chest and sighs softly. Jeff’s solidly asleep next to him, dead to the world.

Kent lifts his chin and looks up at Jeff. His hair is still mussed from last night and several bruises where Kent got a little too… enthusiastic are beginning to form on his chest, and this look, more natural than the gelled-down and carefully presentable one he’d worn at the wedding, suits him far better.

The light catches a tattoo on the inside of Jeff’s arm Kent hadn’t gotten a good chance to look at last night. Kent blinks sleep-blurriness from his eyes and looks closer. It’s some sort of silver trophy, with a date underneath that Kent can’t quite make out. He shifts himself closer, and his stomach drops.

It’s the Stanley Cup, with a date of this past June.

Kent couldn’t have escaped the fervor that had taken over the city this past summer when the local NHL team had won the championship if he’d tried. Kent reaches over to the nightstand to grab his phone. Maybe Jeff’s just a member of the staff, and Kent hadn’t just spent the night with someone famous, and way, way more out of his league than he’d assumed previously.

Google doesn’t give him such mercy. There, in the first article he pulls up, has Jeff’s face, and is titled “Aces acquisition Jeff Troy proves good for game, better for PR.” It goes on to detail how Jeff had proved just the thing the Aces needed to win the Cup after so many years in a row making it to playoffs and immediately tanking. However, apparently (and suspiciously, in Kent’s opinion) he’d been traded from Florida soon after coming out, and had since served as the Aces’ You Can Play advocate, one of the first in the league do so as an actual gay person.

Kent had known about the first, Jack Zimmermann. Even to someone like him, who only had a passing interest in professional hockey, he’d heard about Jack, which is why he’d accepted Jack immediately when he and his fiance has asked Kent to plan their wedding (Kent still hadn’t figured out how they knew about him, but he wasn’t willing to question it any more than he had to). But Jeff… Jeff, he didn’t hear about, at least not enough to recognize his name, and even less to know what he looked like.

Kent swallows hard, and stares between Jeff and the picture of his phone, before setting it down on the side table and sliding out from under Jeff’s arm. He stands up and collects his clothing from around the room as quietly as he can, careful not to wake up Jeff.

Jeff Troy, of the recently cup-winning Las Vegas Aces, who, according to Google, makes well over a million a year. And who he’d just slept with.

Kent leaves the room without waking Jeff, and without letting the weird mix of panic and disappointment take over before it happens. Jeff had been sweet, and considerate, and if he wasn’t apparently the Aces newest star player, and also a _literal_ millionaire, Kent probably would have left his number.

As it stands, though, Jeff was definitely only interested in one night. He’d probably only asked Kent to stay after last night to be nice.

Kent’s trying not to freak out, and failing with style.

  


It’s late October before Kent can stop thinking about Jeff with any consistency. He finally convinces himself that Jeff would have ended up just like his last ex, who had also been kind and sweet at the beginning and then had left Kent two days before their wedding was supposed to happen. Besides, Jeff probably forgot about him by the end of the next day anyway.

Kent’s running late to a client meeting when he runs full speed into someone in the lobby of his apartment building, though at first, he thinks he runs into a wall.

“So—” Kent starts and then pales, because there’s Jeff. In his apartment building. Looking just as shocked as Kent feels. “Uh…?”

Jeff adjusts the strap of the gym bag on his shoulder, and lifts a hand, giving Kent a small smile. “Hey, Kent.”

Kent nods, still too shocked to speak. “How have you been?” Jeff asks, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “It’s been awhile.”

“What are you doing here?” Kent asks, ignoring Jeff’s small talk.

Jeff lifts an eyebrow, confused. “I live here?”

Kent’s sure he’s making the worst impression right now, as he stares at Jeff with open disbelief. “I moved in a few weeks ago. Do you live here?”

Kent nods, and his phone jingles his “fuck dude you’re _super_ late now” alarm. He jolts and steps back. “I’m… I have a meeting, and I’m really late. I’ll… see you around.” He says, brushing past Jeff and towards the parking lot, leaving the man standing, watching him leave.

  


A knock on his door rouses Kent out of a nap he hadn’t meant to take a few hours later. The meeting that afternoon had wiped him out. His clients, an uptight couple from what Kent assumes to be rich families (judging by both their attitudes and their budget) had been, in no uncertain terms, _very_ upset he had dared to even be a minute late. They’d threatened several times to find another planner for their wedding, but Kent had talked them out of it, which he had started to regret when the second hour of their schedule hour meeting was approaching, and they were still arguing over venues.

The entire meeting took close to four hours, and Kent had basically flopped down on the couch, Kit on his chest, and fallen asleep to HGTV the second he got home.

He shoots up from his couch, causing Kit to yowl and hop off of him, at the second buzz of his doorbell.

He shuffles over and yanks it open, stifling a yawn against his hand. A man stands there, bouquet of flowers in hand. “Delivery for Kent Parson?”

Kent takes them, blinking sleep and confusion out of his eyes. “Are you sure?”

The delivery man flashes a slightly annoyed look his way as he hands over his clipboard for Kent to sign. “Kent Parson, Newtown Heights, apartment 3F?”

Kent signs. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Then I’m sure,” the man says, taking the clipboard and turning on his heel. “Have a nice day, sir.”

Kent stands in the doorway of his apartment for a few minutes, trying to figure who had sent him flowers, and why. He checks all over the bouquet, finally finding a small note tucked in between two stems. _You seem like a flower kinda guy,_ was all the note says, no name, no indication of any of Kent’s many burgeoning questions.

It was a pretty bouquet, made up of primarily black-eyed Susans, with a few other pastel purple flowers Kent couldn’t put a name to thrown into the mix. He presses his face against them, eyes shutting as he hums appreciatively. Kit would eat them nearly immediately if he gave her the chance, so he puts them in a vase and deposits them in his bedroom on top of the dresser. He sits on his bed and stares at them, trying to figure out who would have sent him _flowers_.

The last person who had sent him flowers, well. It had been a long time, to say the least.

Kent’s mind rolls back to that morning and bumping into Jeff in the lobby. For the briefest of moments, Kent entertains the idea that Jeff sent them, before brushing it away. There’s no way Jeff would have sent them, especially considering how busy the season’s been so far for the Aces. Not that Kent’s been paying any special attention, of course.

Naturally.

And besides, Jeff has no idea where he lives, other than in the same building as Jeff himself.

Kent spends the rest of the night trying to push the flowers out of his mind and failing miserably. He tries even harder to get Jeff out of his mind, and finds he can’t do that either.

  


The next day, Kent receives an email when he’s in his home office, trying to schedule a meeting with clients hellbent on being as inflexible as possible. He stretches his arms over his head, wincing at the cracking sound his back makes when he arches it, and clicks it open.

It’s a business inquiry from… Kent’s eyes bug out, and he leans in closer to his screen, frowning. The Las Vegas Aces, it would seem, though he might be seeing things. He has to be seeing things, because there’s no plausible way a multibillion-dollar franchise would be reaching out to him, a small-time event planner for a community outreach event. There’s a lot of mumbo-jumbo about intent, and then a number at the bottom.

A number that, apparently, would be Kent’s paycheck should he agree to organize their event. A number Kent’s having a little trouble wrapping his head around.

Kent licks his lips, and leans back in his chair once more, glaring at his monitor. _There’s no way this email is real_ , he mutters to himself. The email asks if he’d be willing to meet at the stadium later in the week, and after Kent glares it down some more, he replies to the email in the affirmative.

Worst case scenario, he embarrasses himself in front of whatever front desk staff are at the rink.

Best case scenario, he can stop having to accept too-rich clients who want to give their bratty children the sweetest of sixteens.

There’s really no downside.

  


Okay, so there’s one downside. It’s shaped like a tall, dark hockey player, and won’t stop flirting with him from across the rink when Kent’s trying to focus on dragging information out of the Aces stodgy old head coach.

And it’s not _really_ as much of a downside as Kent wants it to be.

Jeff takes every available opportunity to get Kent’s attention, up to the day of the actual event, (the management team had decided should focus on You Can Play-esque activism), when he goes quiet. Kent watches Jeff from across the rink, quiet except for when the general manager had spoken to him when he arrived. Kent breaks from the PR team and picks his way through the bleachers until he’s standing behind Jeff at the bench.

“Everything alright?”

Jeff startles out of watching the kids begin to filter in at the other end of the rink, turning so fast his skates clack together and he nearly falls backward. When he’s steady again, he nods his head, but he looks… troubled? Kent isn’t sure, but the easy smile Kent always sees him with is gone. “Yeah, I’m. I’m good.”

Kent frowns. “Are you really?”

Jeff shrugs. “I mean, it’s nice to see all these kids, and know that they have a future? But I wish it had been something I’d had, you know?”

Kent nods. “Yeah.”

“But, if it hadn’t been for Jack Zimmermann, and me, and that Birkholtz guy from the Schooners, there wouldn’t be that chance, right?”

Kent nods again. Over the last few weeks, in planning this event, he’d learned that Jeff, along with a few other hockey players, had all come out over the course of last season. The other two, Zimmermann and Birkholtz, had been met with unwavering support from their management team.

Jeff had been met with a trade.

Not immediately, though. Apparently, despite his team’s management unwillingness to have a gay player, they’d kept him through the end of the season, and into the playoffs. As soon as the Lightning had dropped out of the cup, though, Jeff was shipped off to Vegas.

“I think what you’re doing is important,” Kent says, unsure if that’s even helpful, or more of the same platitudes he’s sure Jeff’s heard enough of over the last year.

“Most days, I’m inclined to agree,” Jeff says with a rueful smile.

Kent’s overcome with the urge to comfort this man he barely knows, but even if he knew how, he doesn’t think it’s his place. Instead, he claps Jeff on the shoulder and smiles. “Let’s get you out there for some photos, yeah?”

Jeff nods, puts on his game face, and takes a step away from the bench, before turning. “Come with me.”

Kent shakes his head. “I can’t, I mean, this is a player event—”

“Sure you can. Come on.”

With that, Jeff pushes back from the bench, gliding backward. “I’ll be waiting.”

Kent frowns at him and then makes his way back to the team. Jill, the head of PR, hands him a pair of skates. “Put these on and make sure the players don’t say anything stupid.”

Kent takes the skates. “Why? Isn’t that like…”

“My job?” She finishes for him. “Not right now. I’ve got to deal with the media, Mr. Parson. Besides,” she gives him a funny, secretive sort of smile. “If this event goes well, we may have more work for you.”

That puts the fire under Kent’s ass like nothing else could. He straps the skates on with deftness his fingers only remember from peewee hockey approximately a million years ago as it now feels like, and steps onto the ice.

He’d loved hockey as a kid, but when his dad had died overseas, his mom had to choose between feeding him and his sister or letting him play hockey. By the time they were stable again, Kent had moved on to other things.

Still, there’s something distinctly _home_ about being on the ice. Kent glides over to Jeff, who gives him a surprised look. “I figured you’d be hugging the wall.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “I played hockey until I was 10.”

Jeff grins at him, and tugs him over to a group of pre-pre-teens, by the look of them, and hands him a stick. “Hey, kiddos. This is my friend Kent.” Jeff bends down and smiles at all of them like they’re all sharing a secret. “How do you feel about making him race you all?”

The kids cheer, and Jeff looks over his shoulder at Kent, still grinning.

Kent’s heart thumps, hard, and he blinks, frozen in the feeling of… something, he gets, when Jeff looks at him like that. It’s soft in a way Kent doesn’t want to think about any more than he should.

Jeff gives him a worried look, and stands, stepping close. “You good?” He mumbles, after gesturing for the kids to go line up at the blue line.

Kent presses his lips together and nods. “Sorry, remembered something I need to do for a client, spaced out a bit. You know.”

Jeff gives him a scrutinizing look, before nodding. “Well, think about it later. You got kids to race.”

Jeff, along with his army of children, soundly beat Kent in every race. Kent’s starting to think Jeff must be using some witchcraft to be as fast as he is.

He asks him just that later after the kids are herded off the ice and into the lobby for photo-ops and pizza. Jeff laughs at him. Just as he’s about to respond, a little girl marches up to him and tugs on the sleeve of his jersey. “Mr. Troy?”

Jeff squats. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“My moms say you’re the reason they started watching hockey. Did you know that?”

Jeff’s face goes soft. “I didn’t. Tell your moms thank you.”

“Also,” she leans in, casting a look between Kent and Jeff. “Is he your boyfriend?” She whispers, but in the way that all kids do, that resembles something more like scratchy speaking than actual whispering.

Kent goes red as Jeff laughs, and redder still as Jeff looks back at him. “No, I wish,” Jeff stage whispers back, keeping his eyes locked on to Kent’s own.

The little girl nods once. “Tell your moms hi for me, okay kiddo?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kent hisses when the little girl wanders away after Jeff signs her jersey.

Jeff shrugs, giving him a small smile. “Dunno. Gotta go take pictures now,” he says, leaving Kent in his wake, confused.

  


Jeff’s waiting by his car when Kent finally leaves the rink a few hours later, having secured another contract for five more outreach events over the next five months. Kent’s not sure how Jeff knows what his car looks like, and he can’t tell if he wants to be seeing Jeff right now or if the funny feeling in his stomach indicates he’d rather be curled up in bed at home watching Gossip Girl.

Jeff looks up as he approaches, and gives him a small smile. Kent stops a few feet in front of him. “Hi.”

Jeff pockets his phone and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

“What was—”

“Did you—”

They both stop, laugh, and Kent nods his head at Jeff to indicate he should go first. “Did you ever get my flowers?”

Kent blinks, confused for only a split second before he remembers the mysterious flowers he’d only finally had to throw out a few days ago. “Those were from you?”

Jeff frowns, tilts his head. “Yeah. Didn’t you read the note?”

“Yeah, but there was no name on it?”

Jeff frowns deeper, and then snorts laughs to himself. “I may have, forgotten to write my name?”

Kent pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been wondering who sent those for a week and a half, Jeff.”

Jeff grins at him. “Why, do you have so many suitors you couldn’t tell who would have sent them?”

Kent arches an eyebrow. “Calling yourself a suitor is pretty bold there, Swoops.”

Jeff’s grin only grows wider, and he pushes himself off the side of the car to grasp Kent by the elbows. “Who told you about Swoops?”

“Your teammate, the Russian one? With the scar.”

Jeff laughs. “Scraps. You got them though?”

“The flowers?” Kent lets himself be pulled closer. “I got them.”

Jeff gives Kent a look that says this conversation is tantamount to herding cats. “Did you like them?”

Kent resists the urge to tell Jeff that he’d stared at them for an hour straight, and let himself fantasize they were from Jeff far longer than he should have. “I did.”

Jeff’s grin turns softer, and his hands squeeze Kent’s elbows. “Good. I’ll send more.”

Kent furrows his eyebrows and gives Jeff a look. “Don’t.”

Jeff frowns back. “Why?”

Kent steps back. “Because…” He huffs and throws up his arms. “Because this was supposed to be a one-night thing.”

Jeff looks hurt for a second, stares at Kent with a hard-to-decipher look before nodding. “Okay. If you want to leave it there, I will.”

Kent wants to say _I want everything_ but _that, I would kill for the chance to wake up next to you again, you’re the only person I’ve been interested in in two years_ and instead says, “I do.”

Jeff nods, putting another foot between them. “Okay.”

Kent watches him walk away, and tries to feel like this isn’t the biggest mistake he’s ever made.

  


Over the next few weeks, Jeff keeps it cordial, friendly, but some of the warmth that was there before is gone now. Kent finds himself missing it more and more every day.

He also keeps seeing Jeff _everywhere_. In the apartment’s gym, at the grocery store. He’d say that Jeff was following him if it wasn’t for the quick flash of hurt in Jeff’s eyes every time he sees Kent before it gets wiped away and replaced with a cheerier demeanor. Kent regrets the decision he made that day at the rink and tries to smother it and stuff it down. Jeff, albeit nicer and seemingly more caring than Kent’s ex, is still a scary prospect. Kent knows Jeff, with his looks, his money, could have anyone, and Kent let himself be convinced that he would be enough for Jeff.

That’s the mantra he repeats to himself every time he and Jeff part.

A month passes between the first event and the next, this one a charity gala for GLSEN. Kent’s been buried under the last preparations for the event and the beginning of winter wedding season. He doesn’t think he’s slept more than a couple hours in days when he opens his door one day to find Jeff on the other side.

Jeff’s fist is raised to knock again, and he looks Kent up and down as he lowers it, a concerned frown coming over his face. “Are you okay?”

Kent blinks. “Yes. No. Maybe?”

Jeff ushers Kent back into his living room, and if Kent wasn’t three seconds away from collapse, he’d be questioning this more. As it is, he lets Jeff sit him on the couch, lets Jeff take away his computer as soon as he reaches for it, and takes the cup of coffee Jeff offers him from his own kitchen. “Thanks,” he chugs it, hissing at the expected pain of heat before he realizes it’s significantly cooler. “Cold?”

Jeff quirks an eyebrow, amused. “If you put the mug in the freezer while you’re brewing the coffee, it comes out the perfect temperature to drink as quickly as possible. Learned it in college.”

Kent sets the mug down, yawning. “College? What for?”

“Economics at Harvard.”

Kent balks. “Harvard?”

Jeff laughs. “I know. And now I play hockey.”

Kent wants to ask more questions, find out more about this part of Jeff that’s not come up before, but he holds back. “Why are you here?”

Jeff’s eyes flick to the side, and he looks suddenly hesitant. “The charity gala. Uh.”

Kent feels a thread of panic loop itself down and around his spine. “Please tell me you can still be there.”

Jeff holds up his hands, hearing the anxiety and trying to quell it. “Yeah of course! But,” he stops, and looks up the ceiling. “I don’t have a date? And I was wondering if you’d want to be mine?”

Kent sighs. “Jeff…”

Jeff looks at him. “Not like a date-date. Like, I need a date but I want it to be you because we’re friends. Right?”

Kent chews on his bottom lip as he stares at Jeff. This could go all sorts of poorly, and yet Kent’s never wanted to say yes to something more. “Just as friends?”

Jeff nods.

“Okay,” Kent says, nodding back. “Why do you need a date in the first place?”

Jeff pulls a face. “Management.”

Kent’s been around the Aces management enough to believe that. Jeff continues. “Everyone else is married or in a Long Term Relationship,” he says, sarcastically putting air quotes around the words. “And they want photo ops. And since I’m their queer cash cow—”

Kent snorts bitterly. “I get it. I’ll go, but on one condition.”

Jeff tilts his head with curiosity, and gestures for Kent to continue. “You help me with the rest of the preparations.”

Jeff smiles. “Deal.”

  


The gala comes faster than he wants it to, and even with Jeff’s help (and multiple reassurances), Kent feels unprepared. He knows he shouldn’t, that everything is going to be fine, and yet.

Kent meets Jeff at his apartment, and Jeff answers the door in a midnight blue suit that, if Kent wasn’t 25 and staunchly against Jeff being more than his friend, would have him pushing Jeff back into his apartment and missing the gala entirely.

As it stands, Kent sneaks looks him up and down, and nods. “You look nice.”

Jeff leans against the doorway and grins at him. “Thanks. You look alright.”

Kent shoves him, and Jeff laughs as he lets him in. Jeff’s apartment is clean, homey in a way that Kent’s never been able to get his to feel like. He turns around to ask Jeff about something, and Jeff’s holding a boutonnière. “Here.”

Kent takes it with a frown. “I thought—”

Jeff shakes his head. “It’s not. For the pictures.”

Kent takes it, squinting at Jeff as he tries to pin it to his tux. Jeff takes it back and waves Kent’s hands away. “Let me.” Jeff pins the boutonnière on, keeping a careful distance between them as he does, which gives Kent enough room to breathe but not enough to get out of his own head about how attractive Jeff is like this. Jeff steps back claps off his hands and smiles. “There, see? Now you look even nicer.”

Kent lifts an eyebrow. “I thought I only looked alright?”

Jeff huffs, but he’s still smiling. “Maybe I lied.”

They stand there for a second, smiling stupidly at each other before Kent snaps out of it. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “We’re gonna be early.”

Kent heads for the door. “Not if you keep screwing around.”

Jeff protests loudly but follows Kent out the door and down to the parking lot.

Kent offers to drive, but Jeff waves him off and leads him over to a shiny car, sleek, black, that Kent doesn’t know the name of. Jeff opens his door for him, and Kent slides in. The seats are cool against his legs, which is welcome in the sticky heat of Las Vegas, even in late November.

The rink is only twenty minutes away normally, but Jeff hits a patch of traffic that makes Kent go rigid in his seat with worry. Jeff doesn’t even look over at him as he says, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Kent drops his shoulders, trying to work out the tension. If he’s late, or if something goes wrong and he can’t be there, that could be the end of his contract with the Aces, and past the money they pay him, he’s actually _enjoying_ the work they ask him to do. Every possible thing he could think of had been approved and paid for without so much as a peep from anyone. It’s his dream job, basically.

Jeff pulls him out of his own head for the ride, grilling Kent on the next event he has planned and asking him approximately a million questions about his job. By the time they get to the gala, still early but just barely, Kent is significantly calmer.

Kent stops Jeff right before going in. “Hey. Thank you.”

Jeff smiles and puts his hand over Kent’s where it rests on Jeff’s tuxedo. “Of course.”

They hold eye contact for a moment longer before Kent pulls back and brushes his hands down the front of his suit and tugs on the ends to smooth it out. “Let’s do this.”

  


The gala, which Kent should have expected, goes off without a hitch. The Aces manage to raise well over thirty thousand dollars. Management thanks him profusely once more, and after making sure everything is set for clean-up and finishing touches, Kent leaves with Jeff.

Kent is lucky the night went so well, considering he’d spent three-quarters of it distracted by Jeff. Jeff, who had pulled out every chair for Kent, who had handed him a new glass of champagne each time he’d ran out before he even noticed. If Kent didn’t know for a fact Jeff just wanted him here as a friend, he’d call it a date.

 _But it’s not,_ Kent firmly reminds himself over and over.

They drive back to the apartment in comfortable silence. Now that the event is over, Kent feels the exhaustion drape over him like a heavy blanket, and without meaning to, he falls asleep on the ride home.

Jeff gently shakes him awake when they arrive, Kent bleary-eyed and blinking sleep out of his eyes as he helps him out of the car. “I think ‘m gonna sleep for the rest of th’ week,” Kent mumbles, pressing his hand against his mouth as he yawns widely.

Jeff wraps an arm around his waist, and Kent’s too tired to pull away, to try and put the distance between them that they need. Instead, he leans into Jeff when they get to the elevator, and Jeff smiles down at him. “It’s not even eleven,” he teases, squeezing Kent’s hip gently to let him know he means no harm.

Kent gives him a half-hearted glare. “I’ve been up since four.”

Jeff leads Kent to his door and opens it up with the keys he must have stolen at some point during the night. Kent’s a little buzzed still, and sleep-drunk, and he turns to Jeff before he leaves, and pulls him into a hug.

Jeff returns it slowly, wrapping his arms around Kent. “Thank you for all your help, and for tonight,” Kent mumbles into Jeff’s chest.

Jeff rubs his hand in slow circles on Kent’s back. “Yeah. Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

Kent looks up at Jeff, and the words die on his lips, because Jeff’s looking at him with an expression can’t quite define, doesn’t want to define, because it’s a lot. Jeff leans in, and Kent steps back. “Good night, Jeff.”

Jeff smiles at him, but it’s tinged with sadness. “Good night, Kent.”

  


Kent tries to fall asleep, but he can’t. The gala, Jeff’s goodbye, all of it keeps playing through his head on loop. He can’t stop thinking about the way Jeff looked at him, the way he’d felt all night.

Happy was too small of a word for the warmth that had settled in his chest as he stood by Jeff’s side all night.

Kent finally throws off the covers at half past five, and leaps out of bed. He grabs his keys and takes the stairs two at a time before he can talk himself out of it. He’s at Jeff’s door, and knocks twice, steels himself instead of turning back like he wants to, and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Jeff cracks open the door and then swings it wide when he realizes who it is. “Kent?”

“Hi. Do you have a minute?” Kent asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I want to talk to you.”

Jeff looks just as tired as Kent feels. “Yeah, uh. Come in.” He steps aside to let Kent in and shuts the door behind him. “Everything okay?”

Kent nods. “Yes. Maybe?” He walks over to Jeff’s couch and flops down, legs folded underneath him. Jeff sits on the other end, staring at him quizzically.

“Last night—” Kent starts.

Jeff interrupts. “We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry.”

Kent frowns. “No, listen.” He takes a deep breath, and licks his lips, avoiding eye contact with Jeff, avoiding the intense look Jeff gives him. “I like you, a lot. But I’m scared.”

Jeff frowns. “Of me?”

Kent sucks on his bottom lip and shakes his head. “Not really. Scared of… what this could become.” He plays with the frayed edge of his pajama bottoms, twirling a loose thread between his fingers. “My fiance moved us to Vegas and left me at the altar. I haven’t dated since.”

He chances a look at Jeff. He expects pity, but what he gets is anger. “Seriously?”

Kent nods. “What a dick,” Jeff says, scooting closer. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But that’s why I keep pushing you away, and you don’t deserve that.”

Jeff scoots closer, as close as he can. Their knees brush together as Jeff leans in and takes Kent’s hands in his own. “I like you too, but I don’t want to push you.”

Kent threads his fingers through Jeff’s. “You’re not. You’ve been more than I deserve.” He squeezes Jeff’s hands and then pulls out. “I want to… try, if you still want to.”

Jeff cups Kent’s face in his hands. “Yeah, I really do.” He leans in, and Kent meets him in the middle, wrapping his hands around Jeff’s neck and kissing him softly, reverentially.

Jeff pulls back a few moments later, and sighs. “I have to get to work, but—”

“I’ll pick you up after? We can grab a meal,” Kent says, cutting him off. “Is that okay?”

Jeff nods. “More than okay.”

  


The last event Kent plans for the Aces is a family day. The entire Aces team, plus management, brings their kids to the rink, and it’s packed. It feels like a public skating rink.

Much like last time, Jeff is surrounded by little kids all vying for his attention. “You’re a child magnet,” Kent says when Jeff frees himself for a moment.

Jeff shrugs. “They like me. I’m friendly.”

Kent snorts and nudges him with an elbow before wrapping his mittened hand around Jeff’s. “Maybe they just see a big softie who will do whatever they want.”

“I aim to please,” Jeff says. He skates in front of Kent and wraps both of Kent’s hands in his own as he skates backward. “Tell me if I’m gonna bump into anyone.”

‘Why? It’ll be so much funnier if you do,” Kent says, grinning.

Jeff pulls Kent towards him and wraps his arms around Kent’s waist. “Because if I go, you’ll be coming with me.”

Kent leans up, and pulls Jeff towards him, into a deep kiss. Jeff shifts his grip, settling his hands on Kent’s waist, happy to comply.

Kent pulls away, relishing the dazed look on Jeff’s face for only a moment, and then twists out of his grip entirely. “You’ll have to catch me first,” he says, throwing a grin over his shoulder and skating away.

Jeff’s laughter echoes even over the low thrum of the crowd on the rink, and Kent doesn’t even need to look to know Jeff’s following.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you possibly the cutest prompt ever. It was hard to choose from the three really phenomenal ones you submitted, and I hope this matches up with what you wanted! I had a lot of fun writing it :D


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